


Jack Daniels and Orange Juice

by Mrs_Milkovich17



Series: Jack Daniels and Orange Juice [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Milkovich17/pseuds/Mrs_Milkovich17
Summary: Uhm, you'll see.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, but we'll see!

Intro: Orange Juice.

              "Man it's fucking hot out today." Lip Gallagher whines while making his breakfast and wiping his brow for the fifth time in an hour. "I don't know how you can even leave the air conditioning every day dude." Ian lets out a chuckle and nonchalantly runs his hands through his fire-kissed hair and belts out, "It's called endurance! Army strong right? Gonna be a lot fucking hotter when I'm shipped back over anyway." Lip stops in the middle of flipping his pancake and lets it fall to the floor. "Shit."  
"What?" Ian says through clenched teeth, knowing fully what his brother is about to say. They've been having variations of this argument for the better part of the last four years. "I'm getting tired of you casually talking about getting blown up!" Lip yells. "It's not fucking fair! You go and leave and know you might not come home and you don't even fucking care! We sit here and wait, for months! Months praying to god that we don't get another phone call, or worrying that a fucking car is going to pull up and give a note saying how sorry they are that you got blown the fuck up in who-thefuck-knows-where-istan and you can just joke about it? Jesus what is wrong with you?!"  
An awkward silence fills the room as Debbie and Carl walk in.  
"What's going on? We heard yelling." Debbie says.  
"Yeah, you guys are fucking loud. I was dreaming of Jessica Alba." Carl complains, rummaging through the cabinets for anything easy to fix.  
"We were just uh-talking." Lip says, hoping they believe it. Nobody needs to know how he feels about Ian's deployments.  
"Talking about what?" Chimes Fiona from the doorway.  
"Nothing." Ian says too harshly to ignore as he grabs his jacket, "I'm going out." He turns and abrubtly walks out through the back door, slamming it behind him.

 

Intro: Jack Daniels.

              Mickey sits facing out of the window while his brothers argue out the details of their next run. After a few minutes of them nitpicking over who's driving, he finally speaks up.  
"Instead of figuring out who's driving the fucking car, why don't you do something useful and go get the fucking guns ready. Limited time window dumb-asses. By the way, Iggy's driving."  
Joey immediately jumps to protest, but Mickey's already outside lighting up what feels like his millionth cigarette today.  
He can't take the heat right now, and he doesn't mean the blistering 102 degree temperature of Chicago. It's been uncharacteristically warm for August this year, but the pressure of the jobs they'be been running for Carlos has him sweating at the thought of completion. Just then he hears Mandy yelling from the kitchen and walks in to find Joey on the ground holding his gut and Mandy standing there furiously kicking him.  
"Woah, holy fuck bitch, Chill the fuck out!" He screams at her in between blows.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you Joey! Why the fuck would that be funny?" She mutters and she kicks him square in the chest, before walking away towards her bedroom and slamming her door with enough force to knock the shattered clock in the hallway clear off the wall.  
"What the fuck was that about Joe?" Mickey asks as he puts out his cigarette.  
"I dunno, cracked a joke about what Dad'd do if he was here and she just started swinging." Joey mumbles as he gets up off the floor, only to be met with a swift smack upside the head from Mickey.  
"You know dad is a touchy subject with her idiot. Don't bring that asshole up anymore okay?"  
"Yeah yeah, got it. Fuck she packs a punch." he adds, wiping blood from his mouth. "She hits any harder and I'll have to hit back."  
Just like that, Mickey can't stand to be standing in the house again and he needs to go. All he can think about is how hot it is and how badly he needs a drink.  
"Uh hey Joe, I'm taking off. Be here at five sharp. No exceptions." He flips up his collar and decides to head towards the Alibi.


	2. Back in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian's POV

Ian finds himself walking into the "Best Shittiest Bar" on the southside of Chicago. "Hey Kev!" He calls out, waving the bartender over to him. "Gimme a shot man!" "Can't, you're not old enough." Kev laughs. "Fuck you. I'm 26 years old. If I can get my leg blown off, I can get a damn drink-" Ian starts before he's suddenly whipped back in time. Two years. It had been two years since he lost his leg during the roadside ambush. Two years since he'd gotten a metallic prosthetic put in it's place. It still felt like yesterday. He'd been driving a Humvee down one of their usual routes, going about their daily routine of transporting supplies between cities. Business as usual, that is until they were suddenly being careened into a boulder on the side of the road. Everything was hazy now, everything but the screams, and the blood. Ian had been the only one to make it out alive and he still couldn't figure out why. He could heard the screaming now, see the blood. He felt everything close up around him and stilled, unable to breathe.  
"Hey, Ian. You okay?" He faintly heard Vee calling him back to reality. He snapped out of it, focusing his eyes on the counter of the bar and forcing himself to gulp fresh air into his lungs. Not now, he didn't need this right now. Not when everything was finally getting back to normal in his life. Not when he was finally getting strong enough for them to consider sending him back over to finish his tour.   
"Yeah, I-uh, just could really use that drink." He said shakily, grounding his heels into the base of the barstool. "Sure thing." Kev said calmly, sliding a double his way. He could almost feel okay right now, if not for the burning sensation where his prosthetic dug into the scarred flesh that remained of his leg. "Thanks," He murmered. "Keep 'em coming."  
"Jeez, what's got you all bothered hun?" Vee asked with a slight crease in her brow. He knew she'd have questions. It wasn't really like Ian to just come to the Alibi in the mid morning looking to get hammered, so she knew something was up. "Got into it with Lip," He said flatly, not looking to meet her eyes. "He's pissed about me wanting to go back."  
"Can't say I blame him though, he took it really rough when you left the first time. You're his brother you know? He's protective." "Yeah but how protective can somebody get before it's borderline controlling?" He snorted out between gulps. "I can't even crack a joke without him flying into a rage about it. I'm a fucking adult now. Big boy can take care of himself you know." He said it too harshly, noting how Vee flinched away from him slightly. He knew he was being an ass, but he couldn't help himself anymore. "I don't need my big brother guiding me through my entire life. Not when he can't even manage to finish college."  
Okay, he was really being an ass, but it was definitely warranted. Ian loved his brother. They were close, but lately Lip had started with this streak of trying to make Ian feel like shit for joining the Army in the first place. At least he had a plan right? Join the Army, make Officer, get them out of southside. Fuck, well he HAD a plan, at least until that attack. They'd sent him home, tail between his legs. Told him if he could get through rehab,and could get strong enough that maybe, just maybe they'd let him come back.   
He'd been working on that part for the better part of two years now. He was finally feeling strong enough, finally passed his physical tests for them, and they were considering it, but Lip...Phillip fucking Gallagher, was slowly trying to break down Ian's resolve to go. He could opt out at any time until he boarded the bus to the base. Lip knew that, and he knew what he was doing. Ian couldn't let him win though, otherwise their entire family's future would be shattered.  
"What the fuck?" The noise cut through the silence (at least Ian thought it was silent?) like a dull knife being sharpened against a chalkboard, followed immediately by a large crash and the sound of glass shattering. Ian jumped in his seat, turning to find the source to promptly tell it to fuck off, but when he saw the owner of the voice, all he could do is stare.


	3. Wait- He looks familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's POV

Mickey was barely through the door of the bar when some idiot, already smashed at noon slammed straight into him, spilling his tray of drinks to the floor with a loud crash. "What the fuck!" was all he managed to say though before the dude had jumped and ran out of the door to hurl into the bushes outside. He snorted, wiping what he assumed was vodka from the front of his shirt before sauntering over to the bar and sitting next to some dude in fatigues and a tank that was obviously drenched in sweat. He couldn't place it but he though the guy looked familiar, maybe seen him here before? He decided not to think about it. "Yo!" he called out to the tall beefy bar-keep, "Whiskey, double shot, keep them coming." He heard a chuckle from Vee, the other bartender and he could feel the heat rising in his face. "What the fuck is so funny?" he snapped at her from his stool. "Oh nothing, just you both (nodding between him and the dude in fatigues) both trying to get hammered at noon? Something seems to be in the air today. Wanna talk about it Milkovich?" She babbled out, trying to look like she cared. "No," He said too sharply, instantly regretting it from the hurt look on her face. "Sorry, no. Just keep them coming steady." He said, trying yet again to think of where he knew this guy from. If Kev and Vee knew him then he knew the dude had to be of importance somewhere, but where? He turned his head, eying the dude from top to bottom, resting his eyes on the small piece of metal that was visible between his pants leg and his shoe. A fake leg? He didn't know anyone with a fake leg. He looked back up to see green eyes staring at him and smirking hard. "Again I say, what the fuck is so funny?" He snaps, steeling himself again.   
"Oh nothing, you know, just find it amusing how you haven't realized who I am yet." The rehead drawled out with a slow, lazy grin. It smacked him in the face at that moment. Redhair, Freckles, Fatigues, That easy smile, Green eyes that held his gaze for what felt like an eternity...Ian fucking Gallagher. Jesus christ. He was staring directly at Ian Gallagher. They used to know each other, back in the day, in highschool. They had sort of a thing at one point, before Mickey's dad had found out about them and quickly put an end to it by beating Mickey damn near to death. Mickey never even spoke to Ian after that, just coldly ended things between them. He had heard that Ian had joined the Army, but he figured he was still overseas. He never thought he'd be sitting next to him at the fucking Alibi. "Holy shit," He breathed out quietly. The strong urge to run creeping up on him. He forced it down and started. "Ian, I-uh..I mean I-" He struggled to find the words he wanted to say. To apologize for how he was when they were teens. "I know." The redhead said calmly. "Mandy told me everything. I don't blame you."   
Mickey released the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, before quickly knocking back his shot, reaching for the next one on the bar. "I thought you were overseas." was all he could manage to say aftewards. "Nah, been home almost two years now." Ian said with a quick, harsh laugh, pointing downward as he pulled up his pant leg, revealing a proesthetic limb where his leg used to be. "Got it blown off. I'm good now though, they're about to let me go back." He'd hardly heard what Ian was saying though, because his eyes couldn't seem to stop staring at the sleek metal of Ian's leg.


End file.
